


Turkey Brown

by AHumanFemale, ships_to_sail



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Collaboration, Fluff, Humor, Inspired By, M/M, Smut, the amazing Robin Hood, the morning after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 13:14:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16063895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AHumanFemale/pseuds/AHumanFemale, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ships_to_sail/pseuds/ships_to_sail
Summary: Rafael Barba was forty-five years old.Rafael Barba was Ivy League educated and highly successful by nearly anyone’s standards, rising to balance on the unforgiving edge of fame and infamy in everything he’d ever done.Rafael Barba was so good in court he’d been known to attract small platoons of law students who wanted to study him.Rafael Barba was also a moron.What was hethinking?Who in God’s name has a conversation with a perfect stranger and then just invites them over?!?[OR, the continuation of "Butterball" by Robin Hood that literally no one asked for.]





	Turkey Brown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Robin Hood (kjack89)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Butterball](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13396803) by [Robin Hood (kjack89)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/Robin%20Hood). 



> This is my first fic in ages, folks, so be kind. It could absolutely not have happened without my brilliant and kind coauthor both acting as a coach, cheerleader, and cattle prod when necessary. All the best parts of this are hers and I just limped from section to section.
> 
> The title is truly horrendous because when Robin initially tried to talk me into writing this story I joked that she just wanted another "Devil Red". Therefore I give you.... Turkey Brown!
> 
> xoxo, ahf.

**Turkey Brown**

  
  


Rafael Barba was forty-five years old.

Rafael Barba was Ivy League educated and highly successful by nearly anyone’s standards, rising to balance on the unforgiving edge of fame and infamy in everything he’d ever done. 

Rafael Barba was so good in court he’d been known to attract small platoons of law students who wanted to study him.

Rafael Barba was also a  _ moron _ .  

What was he thinking?

Who in God’s name has a conversation with a perfect stranger and then just  _ invites them over _ ?!?

Rafael Barba, that’s who.  And his apartment had been empty for just long enough for the glow to have worn off of that four-hour phone call.  Surely the accent was stronger and more strident, his humor less engaging. Clearly, in retrospect the vulnerability in the man’s voice was repulsive rather than the most unexpected siren’s call to have ever stolen every other thought from his head.  Sonny Carisi was, in no way, shape or form, anything like the version of himself that had been constructed in Rafael’s head.

Mental Sonny was well dressed, kind, and funny.  

The real Sonny Carisi would be another matter entirely.  He would show up at Rafael’s door dressed like a slob, he would talk too loud and only about the “war stories” cops liked to use to put people off their dinner.  Self centered, almost certainly. He would wipe his hands on his thighs rather than on Rafael’s navy cloth napkins and not so much as offer to open wine or do dishes or bother to wait until dinner had faded from his mouth before he tried for a kiss.

Fuck, Rafael still wanted to kiss him.

_ Buzz. _

He was here.

Rafael’s mouth went so dry so fast that he reached for the first liquid in reach - a particularly dry white cooking wine that hit his palate and instantly sprayed back out again.  He coughed and choked, expelling the remnants into his sink while the intercom next to his door played like white noise in the background.

_ Buzz buzzzzzz.  _

The reality of the slovenly, inconsiderate version of Sonny sure to be waiting downstairs didn’t stop Rafael from running the tap over a cupped hand and taking enough of a sip to clear the repulsive cooking wine from his mouth.  It wasn’t enough to keep him from hurrying down the hall, and it wasn’t enough to keep him from pushing the button that let him access the intercom situated on the street five floors below.

“Hey,” he said and from his abused throat it sounded like an aggrieved moan.

“Uh, hey counselor,” a familiar voice said in response and  _ goddamn it  _ the accent was cuter than he’d remembered. “It’s me.  Sonny, I mean. You know, from the-”

“I recall.  Seeing as it’s only been a few hours.”  A chagrined chuckle rumbled to life between them and in half a breath Rafael remembered exactly how he’d gotten here to begin with.  It was without a flicker of hesitation that he leaned on the intercom button and his lips formed the words, “It’s cold. Come on up.”

In two minutes there was a light knock at his door and Rafael pushed up the sleeves of his maroon sweater, lightly ran his palms down the sides of his slacks to alleviate some of the nerves sizzling over his skin like an electrical current.  The sound of shoes shuffling equally nervously across the wooden floor outside his door spurred him into motion, one hand releasing the chain while the other turned the knob. In his head he held that imaginary Sonny alongside the one he feared would greet him.

He was wrong.

So, _ so _ wrong.

Sonny Carisi was a tall drink of expensive prosecco in dark dress pants and a crisp white shirt, jacket tossed haphazardly over one shoulder and held in place with one long finger hooked into the collar.  Effortless in the way he held himself even if his appearance suggested he’d put some thought into it before walking out the door. His hair was light and graying further at the temples, combed back in waves only barely obeying the orders his product was issuing.  He was tall and lean with solid hips and broad shoulders and eyes the color of a clear summer sky. A nice jaw and full lips, quirked up in a self-effacing smile that made something ache just below the curve of Rafael’s fourth rib.

Sonny was stunning enough that Rafael’s first reaction was a thankfully internal, "Well  _ fuck me. _ "

Or at least he thought it was internal, until the man’s eyebrows darted up somewhere around his hairline and he croaked, “I mean... maybe wine first though, right?”

Already off to a terrific start.

“Come in,” Rafael said rather than address it, stepping aside to open his door wider.  If Sonny had second thoughts they were nowhere to be seen, long legs crossing Rafael’s threshold in a sweep of fabric.  “I hope you don’t mind, I haven’t gotten to the dishes yet.”

“I would have been seriously impressed if you had,” Sonny replied casually, surreptitiously taking in his surroundings.  “In my family that’s something that gets left to the last possible minute.”

“I think my mother would have a stroke if she knew I invited someone over with dishes in the sink,” he admitted with a light laugh.  “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll serve. Wine?”

“Please.”  Sonny followed him into the kitchen, pulling out a stool situated against the itchen island.  A few hours earlier his mother had occupied it, wondering too loud why he hadn’t managed to put his phone down all day.  “Can I help with anything?”

Rafael scoffed.  “Since you might as well have made everything yourself, I think you’ve already done your part.”

“No, I supervised.  Sort of,” he said, letting his jacket rest on the island while he leaned forward on his elbows.  “You did all the work. Besides, being at the hotline all day means I skipped out on my Italian culinary duties. That’s some pretty serious cultural and cosmic debt to pay off, so put me out of my misery, Counselor. Put me to work.” 

He held his hands out wide, smile broad and filling Barba’s small kitchen with the kind of warm light that brought to mind words like  _ family _ . He turned quickly, ostensibly searching for the bottle opener, all the while praying the surge of heat to his cheeks had gone unnoticed. 

He used the spare precious seconds to grab the last clean glass out of the cabinet, making his way, arms full, back across the kitchen to the island. He set down the glass and opened carefully before heading to the refrigerator for the wine, a heady red he’d been saving for his favorite part of the holiday - the quiet peace of his once-again-empty apartment. 

“If you insist, Detective,” and he set the bottle down next to the rest of the supplies and gesturing at Sonny to pour them both a glass. 

Watching Sonny give generous pours for each of them, he thought maybe he’d been saving it for something else entire. Sonny finished and held a glass out to Rafael, his blue eyes reflecting the deep red and turning some rapturous shade of violet, the long taper of his fingers wrapping gracefully around the thin stem. Rafael took it from him, fingers brushing over the back of dry, warm skin as he locked eyes with the blond, his teeth catching the corner of his lip without thinking as he smiled. 

“Cheers, Rafael.”

“Salud, Sonny.”

Neither one of them took their eyes off the other as they both took long, slow drinks, Sonny’s eyes glued to Rafael’s lips as surely as Rafael watched the long lines of Sonny’s neck, the way they rolled as he swallowed, jaw tensing. 

“Delicious,” he said, his voice low and full of smoke. 

“Perfect,” Sonny agreed, his lips cocking up in a devilish half smile. “Good wine, too.”

Rafael was almost relieved at the chuckle that cut through the growing tension in the room. The night was growing before them, and Rafael added “knows a million ways to take a man apart” to his thankful-for list.  When an aunt had proposed sharing blessings that afternoon he was willing to bet she wouldn’t be expecting his to include the attractive cop in front of him now.

For that matter, neither had he.

And as they sat down to a late dinner - Rafael finding himself hungrier than expected, as though his anxiety had burned the calories he’d already ingested that day - Rafael found a man not just attractive, but one surprisingly easy to talk to.  Sonny was enrolled in Fordham, as it turned out, and while the conversation fizzled and fell flat at the mentions of work talk it flourished under the myriad facets of the law. It had been a long time since he’d felt so vigorous in debate. Possibly since Harvard, viciously snarling at Rita who was only ever amused with his shows of passion on any topic they discussed.

Eventually dishes got left, they relocated to the living room with the football game muted to sit too close on Rafael’s couch.  To smile too much, to have one glass of wine too many. To talk about family over generous slices of heavily spiced pumpkin pie with whipped cream that, like everything else, Sonny had talked him through making.  Neither of them noticed as the sun set beyond Rafael’s windows that overlooked the city until the man-made lights glittered like the God-given ones beyond it. And it was with amused incredulity that Sonny commented on the fact that Rafael had spent the day surrounded by female family members who could easily have talked him through everything Sonny had.

Rafael laughed mercilessly.  

"And what, let them know I didn't know what I was doing?  Cuban women already know they know better than you. I'm not setting out to prove it to them."

"And what, you think Italian women are any better? They know better than you, me, and my ma would say she knew better than God when it came to the right way to roll casarecce." Rafael just stared at him, eyebrow raised, until Sonny shrugged and relented. "Okay, she might not say it. But we both know she'd be thinking it."

That got a good laugh out of Rafael, because he knew his mother would very well think the same thing about her  _ lechon con moros y maduros. _

"Well, whatever the reason - I’m glad you called.”

The sincerity with which Sonny offered the words shouldn’t have been a surprise after the day they’d had together, and still there was a dangerous thud behind his ribs.

“This was - a rough year.  For me, for my mother,” he heard himself admitting but could hardly believe it.  “This was our first holiday since my grandmother passed.”

The detective’s eyes darkened, met Rafael’s with stunning intensity.

“I’m sorry,” he said and Rafael had no doubt the depth to which he meant it.

“I expected to be miserable,” he confessed.  “I expected to try and still barely make it through the meal.  Instead I severely overestimate myself and call some random number as a Hail Mary and instead of misery I find… you.  And that just baffles me.”

“In a good way?” Sonny asked, self deprecation clear in the line of his shoulders.

“In a very good way.”

Sonny looked at him, a blush rising in his cheeks. 

"Confession, counselor?"  Rafael's silence was all the answer Sonny needed. "It may have only been half a Hail Mary."

Rafael drained his glass and set it down gently. "Explain."

"We see the numbers. At the hotline. They've got, like, caller ID. So when your number popped up, and your name along with it..." Sonny drained his own glass and set it down next to Rafael's with a soft  _ clink. _ The movement put him so near Rafael, he could feel the warmth spilling off the man. "I was on my way out when you called but I just… I don’t know.  I just couldn’t leave until I’d answered.”

There was more to the story, Rafael knew it, but it was lost to the soft brush of lips, an exhale that tasted like merlot and destiny.  Maybe it was the holidays, maybe it was the emotional vulnerability in how they’d found each other, but Rafael couldn’t deny the tinge of  _ fate  _ that seemed to permeate their meeting.  And rather than fight it he chose to embrace it, letting himself be pulled closer.  Gathered into the circle of Sonny’s arms, let himself enjoy the way the other man’s breath hitched when Rafael touched his sides and the way his eyes kept flickering back to the TV-

Wait.

He pulled away.

“What?  Did I-”

“Are you watching football while I’m kissing you?” Rafael asked bluntly and the enchanting flush across Sonny’s face darkened to something resembling shame.  

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.  Old habits die hard,” he admitted and Rafael struggled to pay attention to the words while his eyes stayed magnetized to the glistening of Sonny’s lips.  “This was pretty much the only part of Thanksgiving with my dad that didn’t get ruined by something else and-”

“And you don’t want to miss it.”

Every gay friend he had watched the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade for the showtunes and was done by ten in the morning.  How in God’s name had he managed to get the single sports gay in all of Manhattan?

Sonny’s silence was answer enough and though Rafael sat, stunned, he could understand where the sentimentality was coming from.

“Watch the game,” Rafael insisted, sounding surlier than originally intended.  Who could blame him? All he was trying to get laid by the hot cop next to him and the idiot was worried about  _ other  _ idiots running around in pads after a ball.  “I’ll clean up.”

“No, wait, I can help-”

“You. Game. Now,” he ordered in a stern voice and was pleased to see how quickly Sonny sat back down.  He did love a man who followed orders. “Tradition, remember? Just give me a few minutes.”

It was more than a few minutes that he spent at the sink, cleaning and putting away the day’s baked in messes.  Over the sound of rushing water he heard Sonny cheering or shouting in dismay, prompting fond eye rolls as he scrubbed at the dish that once contained yams and now was caked in some kind of industrial epoxy.  When it was finished he walked past Sonny toward his bedroom to change his clothes, his sweater and slacks now damp with dishwater. Moments later he returned in jeans and a dark burgundy Harvard t-shirt, one probably a little tighter on him than when he bought it, but it did wonderful things to his shoulders and biceps and so it was a chance he was willing to take.

Not that Sonny noticed.

In fact, Sonny was so engrossed in the game he hardly noticed Rafael at all.  His eyes were glued on the TV screen and the fact that Rafael had come back in different clothing - clothing geared toward gaining the man’s attention - had not so much as made a dent in the man’s focus.  It was admirable, really, but Rafael had plans damn it and none of them involved watching football.

Rafael was a determined man and yet by the time the game was ninety minutes in he was seriously starting to consider Sonny Carisi to be a lost cause - at least until halftime mercifully started and the man clicked off Rafael’s television with a disinterested air.

“What, no halftime show?” Rafael asked half seriously.  “It’s supposed to be Lady Gaga.”

“Nah, not interested,” he said and turned the TV off, scooting closer.  “I’m gay but I’m not  _ that _ gay.”

Rafael huffed a laugh and felt his skin warm as Sonny moved closer, smelling like a cologne he didn’t know.  Clean, slightly sweet. He couldn’t help but welcome Sonny’s nearness, even if his eyes flicked unwillingly back and forth from the gorgeous man in front of him to the now black TV.  If his guest noticed Rafael’s inattention, it took him a few seconds to notice. He leaned in for a kiss but Rafael was distracted, a second too slow and it glanced off the corner of his mouth instead.  The man looked at him, at his eye line, and a fine web of lines appeared at the corners of his painfully blue eyes.

“Let me guess,” he teased.  “Lady Gaga?”

Rafael cleared his throat and tilted his chin up in defiance.

“She’s very talented.”

From Rafael’s brief but thorough exposure to Manhattan hookups, he expected Sonny to try again.  He was open to it, of course - Rafael had been playing their conversations on a loop in the back of his mind for hours, had been close enough to Sonny on the couch to want to get a feel for that slender body without clothes in the way - but instead he got a good natured laugh and then Sonny backed away.  Reaching for the remote, Rafael realized as the TV flickered back to life. The announcer was hyping the performance to come and he looked up, confused, when Sonny stood.

“I think we need a refill.  I’ll be right back,” Sonny stood up smoothly, and Rafael felt a pang at the cold air that suddenly filled the space beside him. It definitely couldn’t be that he was already was already missing the detective, the warm weight of him as their bodies slowly drifted closer together on the couch. No, it was far too soon for that. So Rafael pulled the soft cashmere blanket off the arm of the couch next to him and spread it out with fingers that were only the slightest bit shaken. By the time Sonny returned, full glasses in hand, Rafael was warming up again nicely, his focus returned to the television, where fog was drifting over a neon lit stage and the opening bass line to “Bad Romance” filled the living room.

Without missing  beat, Sonny set both of their glasses on the table and lifted the blanket just enough to slide his thin frame beneath it, but not enough to let the heat escape. He settled himself next to Rafael, draping his long arm after the back of the couch, and then across Rafael’s shoulders as the other man leaned his weight against further against Sonny. 

Rafael smiled at the vibrations in Sonny’s chest as the man hummed along with the song for a few minutes, Rafael beginning to whisper a few of the words until they were both having a sort of whisper-hum sing along to the rest of Lady Gaga’s set. As the star exited the stage and the announcers began to spout statistics about the second half, Sonny leaned up and hit the mute button on the remote.

“You know, you were right. She really is talented.”

“I know,” Rafael said matter-of-factly. He had known. He’d told Sonny. Sonny looked at him for a second, head tilted to the side, before a slow grin slid across his face and he leaned forward slowly, a hand coming to cup the side of Rafael’s cheek as his mouth found Rafael’s. It wasn’t like the kiss from earlier, soft and tentative. It was a kiss that claimed, that burned, that pushed Rafael back into the couch and ground his hips up to find purchase against Sonny’s long body above him. It was a kiss of promise, and soon it wasn’t enough.

“What, no second half?”

Why did he sound so breathless?

And why did the sound make the corner of Sonny’s lips quirk up?

“Nah,” he said and unconsciously darted the tip of his tongue out to sooth his lower lip, “I got better things to do.”

Well, in that case...

“Bedroom,” Rafael said, the  _ please _ unspoken because Rafael wasn’t ready to say it yet. Sonny shivered and laughed, the sound low and intoxicating.

“Yes, sir.” Any blood not already there shot straight to Rafael’s dick, but Sonny was no idiot and the fire in his eyes was a testament to the fact that he knew what he was doing. He pushed himself off of Rafael, holding out a hand and helping the man to his feet. He spun Rafael around and walked him down the only hall in the apartment, slowly enough that Rafael was able to lead him in the right direction, pressing himself back in to Sonny and biting back a moan at the stiff press of cock against the swell of his ass. 

He wasn’t going to be able to focus. It was the only thought in his mind, the line and curve of Sonny - peaches and cream and already dripping, waiting for Rafael and the things he could do. His jeans weren’t obscenely tight, but Rafael’s imagination was vivid and his attention not easily split. He wasn’t going to wait - didn’t want to wait. He wanted his hands on Sonny; on this patient, gentle, wandering soul who by some turn of luck or magic had wound up here, pressing smoldering kissing along the tops of his shoulders and the nape of his neck. 

He spun suddenly, almost throwing them off balance, and they crashed into the wall. Sonny only had a moment to look stunned before Rafael’s long arms were pinning him in on either side, his wider shoulders taking up the space that his shorter frame may have lacked. He seemed to surround Sonny, tall enough to press a stubbled kiss to that spot, that one spot, where the vein in Sonny’s neck met his jawline, tall enough to bite down gently at the same time he tugged firmly on the silver hairs at Sonny’s temple, the mix of pain and pleasure bringing a low, animal sound out of Sonny. 

Painfully hard, insanely impatient, Rafael felt the wild urge to laugh bubbling up in him but he refrained.

He pulled back enough to meet the detective's eyes, his pupils completely blown. 

“Okay, Sonny?”

Sonny practically choked on the speed of his response, which made asking all the more worth it. 

“ _ Yes _ , God.”

With an expert flick of his wrist, Rafael had Sonny’s jeans unbuttoned and his fly down. The detective didn’t have the opportunity to be impressed because within seconds he gave a rough jerk and pushed Sonny’s jeans and worked thick fabric over his erection.  Sonny hissed slightly as Rafael’s fingers ghosted lightly up the length of his shaft and he reveled in the sound. 

Rafael pulled back to look at it, just as beautiful as he’d been imaging.

The beads of slick at the tip of his dick were calling to Rafael already. He met Sonny’s eyes and smiled hungrily, leaning forward to capture his mouth in another searing kiss as his thumb swiped over the tip of Sonny’s cock and the rest of his long fingers wrapped around the length of him, pumping slowly. He heard the slow, controlled exhale from Sonny, but when he met the man’s eyes, fire blazed there.  

Without thinking, Rafael slid the hand not around Sonny’s dick down to his chest, fingers spreading out along his collarbone, fingers inching slowly towards Sonny’s throat. Sonny smiled at him and leaned his head back, exposing the long lines of his neck even further. Rafael took the hint and slid his hand up a bit more, his palm at the hollow in Sonny’s throat, his fingers coming to rest on either side. 

He didn’t press, didn’t squeeze, didn’t do anything that might endanger or worry this man he wanted to wreck.  But the warmth of his hands, the presence of his fingers, was enough to ramp up Sonny’s lust, his heartbeat racing underneath Rafael’s grip and his hips fucking up into his tight grip. 

“That’s right,” Rafael growled, pumping his hands in time with Sonny’s hips until the man’s rhythm began to falter, at which point Rafael took over, twisting his wrist over the head, running his thumb over the slit and through the gathering the wealth of slick he found there.  Driving Sonny ever higher, drinking in the man’s pleasure like it was something aged in a barrel, Rafael couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so present in a single moment.

Maybe never.

He watched as Sonny's eye contact finally faltered, his eyelids drooping and his head falling back against the wall, his hands scraping along Barba’s forearms leaving lines of fire in their wake. Sonny's breath hitched in his chest and sweat beaded along his hairline, dampening the strands and curling them away from his face. His tongue darted out to swipe at his upper lip, and Rafael ached with the need to be underneath that tongue. 

His grip tightened ever so slightly, his grip sped up a fraction, but together it was enough. Sonny grunted, a low _ fuck _ and an almost pained  _ yes, Rafael _ escaping through clenched teeth before he was coming, hot white spurts that coated Rafael's palms and fingers.  It felt like a victory - a battle won, a prize taken in the release on his skin and the deep pulls of air Sonny sucked into heaving lungs.

Rafael hesitated before wiping his hand against his jeans. They were new, and the dark wash would show every stain, but he hated the tacky feeling settling over his skin as the air cooled the-

His brain short circuited when Sonny wrapped full, soft lips around his first two fingers and sucked, lightly, his tongue swirling around each finger before moving onto the next. His lips covered the center of his palm and he felt the gentle scrape of teeth as he pulled Rafael closer, into a bruising kiss that tasted like Sonny.

His lips still on Rafael's, Sonny walked them both backwards through the doorway to Rafael's bedroom, until the back of Rafael's legs hit his bed and he was forced to sit. He wrapped his arms around Sonny, pressing a kiss to the soft flesh just below his belly button. Sonny wrapped his hands through Rafael's hair, scratching at his scalp softly.

“Lay down.” His voice was sweet, but left no room for argument. Rafael smirked but only managed to remove his shirt and lean back on his elbows.  Bare now, at least, for Sonny’s greedy eyes to take him in.

“Issuing orders, detective?”

“Only ones I’m pretty sure you want to follow.”

Confidence was a good look on an already gorgeous man, and Rafael felt himself harden further at the thought that Sonny had good reason to be confident.

“Convince me.”

Rafael wasn’t above playing hard to get, it seemed.

A fact Sonny seemed to appreciate, as a purely feline smirk stretched over his lips and a flash of heady anticipation colored the man’s oceanic irises.

He heard, more than felt, the metallic pull of the zipper, and he shivered as cold air brushed over the small area of newly exposed flesh. With a sound close to a sigh, he lifted his hips as Carisi pulled his jeans down and over his hips, and he had to bite back a whimper as the man dusted a breath over the sensitive skin at the base of Rafael's cock.

It was… convincing.

The sound was stolen from his body, though, when those same soft, swollen lips wrapped around the width of him and swallowed him from root to tip. He bucked, his hips jerking and forcing his dick even further into Sonny's mouth. He heard the gag, pulling back until long fingers gripped his hips like iron and held him in place.  It was then he finally complied and collapsed backward, back to the mattress and at Sonny’s mercy without another thought devoted to contrived displays of power.

He squeezed his eyes shut, the exquisite press of Sonny's throat around him, warm and wet, was enough to drive him to the edge and back again. He wanted it too badly, and it'd been too long. He hadn't even realized how long until Sonny had walked - hotlined - into Rafael's life. He gripped his fists into the sheets below him and concentrated on pulling himself back but it was an empty gesture.  It wasn’t his decision to make, not really. Not with his lover working him so thoroughly it felt as though he was close to an out of body experience.

Then Sonny, nose still nestled against the small curls at the base of Rafael, his face a mess of spit and come, dusted a single finger down.  Brushing lightly against Rafael's taint, ghosting over the small pucker of muscle, and a rocket of lightning shot through Rafael, a blaze of fire that started at the base of his spine and didn't ever seem to end as he emptied everything he had into the warmth of Sonny’s throat.  He came without any more warning than a shout to God and Sonny's name, over and over until the litany became something dangerously close to prayer.

His lover brought him down - carefully, lovingly.  Bestowing light licks and lingering kisses until he was cleaned and Sonny had joined him in bed.  Long fingers toying with the hair on his chest, combing through it until Rafael felt himself threatening to drift off.  A low rumble emanated from his throat and Sonny gave a breathy chuckle.

“Do you like that?” he asked.

“Like you,” Rafael answered and gave a sharp groan of complaint when Sonny sat up.  It was only to take his shirt off, to kick his slacks away, before joining Rafael again.  He lay too close, held him too easily, and Rafael suddenly couldn’t imagine spending the night any other way.  

“Stay,” he managed to whisper, voice husky with pleasure and sleep.  

Just that.

_ Stay _ .  

And Sonny didn’t move, only tightened the rangy arm over Rafael’s middle and slept.

 

**…**

 

Morning came before it was even light outside.  Rafael woke at the first tentative slide of movement in his bed because it was so rare to have someone else in it, and it was with a pang of dismay that he realized it was because Sonny was leaving.  Before dawn, without a word. The stunning sense of joy he’d felt the night before suddenly seemed cheap and ridiculous.

He listened to Sonny collecting clothes from the floor and slipping into them, careful to avoid making too much noise as he wrangled his belt and cursed under his breath.  It was all needless, of course. 

“Don’t tell me,” he started, voice rough, “You have a Black Friday tradition?”

“Me, no,” Sonny admitted and didn’t pause in buttoning his shirt as Rafael propped himself up on his elbow, sending his thick comforter pooling at his bare midriff.  That, at least, managed to catch the detective’s attention. “But my, uh-” He licked his lips. “But my sisters go nuts for it and I’m there as the voice of reason.”

“And the badge,” he pointed out.  

Sonny looked stricken.  

“I would never-”

“You’ve done it at least once or I’ll eat this pillow,” he snarked, allowing only the smallest hint of a grin to grace his lips.  Sonny looked down. “I rest my case.”

“Yeah, well,” Sonny said and sat down in the chair opposite Rafael’s bed to lace his shoes, “Don’t tell anybody or I’ll get knocked down to traffic duty so fast my head’ll spin.”

“I’ll add it to our growing list of secrets.”

“Speaking of which,” Sonny replied and Rafael felt his breath catch.  He wasn’t sure why but instantly felt as though he should have known better - hookups were temporary.  Hookups between two men who worked in conjunction in an official field were temporary, and likely illicit if the wrong person found out about it.  Hookups born of ridiculous chance meetings on a phone line were sure as hell temporary because who would be willing to admit how they met their significant other?

“Speaking of which,” Rafael echoed, this time phrased as a question for Sonny to finish.

“When can we do this again?”

Rafael paused.

“Again?”

“Yeah.  Again,” he reiterated, grinning.  “As in, when is the next time we can share a meal and a drink and make out on your couch.”

Sonny’s smile was entirely effortless, and more than entirely contagious.

“Whenever you want,” Rafael answered without thinking.  “You know where to find me. And we both know you have my number.”

The glint in his light eyes turned mildly lascivious as he stood and came to stand at the side of the bed.

“Do I  _ ever _ .”

Rafael laughed.  He couldn’t help it.  “Careful, detective. Your ego is showing.”

“Well, I have to have  _ something _ to compete with the great Rafael Barba,” he insisted and the low thread of teasing in the words made something hum in Rafael’s chest.  “Really. When can I see you again?”

“Go threaten to arrest rival shoppers,” Rafael replied, settling again onto his back and folding his arms behind his head.  Sonny’s eyes were drawn down the length of his body and he couldn’t help but preen under the attention. “When you’re done, if you have a taste for coffee and leftovers, you know where to find me.”

“I don’t arrest them,” he insisted weakly, distracted.

Rafael scoffed.

“Sure you don’t.”

“I-”

“Happy shopping, detective.”

Sonny pulled his eyes up long enough to roll them dramatically and headed for the door, offering a wave as he walked away.  Rafael listened as the man’s shoes scuffed along his hardwood floors, pausing long enough to grab the dark jacket still laid across his kitchen island.  And when the door closed behind the man who had taken Rafael so completely by surprise, he let out a long breath that threatened to turn into a laugh near the end.  Really, as his alarm clock’s dim face told him it was just past four-thirty in the morning, he should close his eyes and get a little more sleep. 

Instead he looked over at the crumpled sheets next to him and sighed.

The air had hardly finished escaping before he heard his door open again, the same footsteps hurried now as they came through his entryway and living room.  

“Forget something?” Rafael asked just as Sonny’s shadow entered the room.  The man himself came through the doorway a second later, throwing his jacket into the chair his lithe body had occupied only minutes before.

“Yeah,” he said and toed off his black dress shoes at the end of the bed, looking over Rafael with something ravenous in his light eyes.  Rafael felt his blood stir at the sight and then Sonny was on the mattress, crawling up to him. 

“Oh?” he asked coquettishly.  

“Yeah,” Sonny answered and touched full lips to the coarse hair beneath Rafael’s navel.  “I forgot I frigging hate shopping.”

 


End file.
